Talk
by summerartist
Summary: Though elves never sicken, there are often flaws in every physical form. One of the fellowship struggles with a serious illness that threatens the success of the quest. Warnings for suicide ideation and blood in future chapters
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: This is the most daring story post I've ever done. Forgive me if I misspell place names or have to toy with the formatting. I am, however, not sorry for the story. Warnings for some blood and suicide ideation in future parts.

* * *

Samwise Gamgee glanced back at Imiladris longingly. The sun was just starting to rise over the last homely home. It glinted off the pale rooftops and pavilions, and shone on the river. The foam of the water sparkled and roiled in the morning mists.

Sam felt someone pat is shoulder. He looked beside him, expecting to see a sympathetic fellow hobbit, instead he looked up to see Legolas smile sadly at him. For a moment, the hobbit considered the elf. Legolas rarely spoke a word. He mostly sang, which suited his desire for Elvish music well, but at other times Sam felt he was "standoffish," as his Gaffer used to say.

Sam could think of no retaliation to the elf's comfort, but the hobbit was soon distracted by the trail. Mountains arose quickly on the path away from the valley. The rocks on the outskirts of the last homely home became more frequent the farther they traveled. The hobbits had to keep their wits about them to dodge or shuffle over stones upon the road.

Merry and Pippin were already discussing breakfast.

"Maybe if we can find any mushrooms we could make a sauce for the dried pork." Pippin chirped.

"I haven't seen any mushrooms after all the time in Rivendell, I don't think they grow out here, Pip." Merry mumbled.

"They grow everywhere, Merry," Pippin scooted onto a particularly large rock, "Something must be eating them before we find them, or we aren't looking hard enough." Pippen stumbled off the rock, bumping into Gimli. The dwarf hastily grabbed his arm and steadied the youngest hobbit.

Gandalf was ahead of the group, watching them catch up. His longer stride made him faster among the rocks. The breeze ruffled his gray beard and threatened to tear his hat off. He grumbled, brushing his grizzled gray hair out of his eyes.

He first spotted the chatting hobbits surrounding the dwarf. Then came Boromir, son of Denethor, walking behind the pack horse, or pony. Aragorn came second to last. He smiled at Gandalf warmly when he caught his eye.

Legolas brought up the rear guard. His face was fair this morning, and he kept his eyes on the road. His skin looked bleached in the morning light. It was subtle, but Gandalf had often been around elves and could see the nuances in Elven complexion. He knew he was not the only one who noticed this. Aragorn kept on shooting glances back at Legolas as they traveled.

Perhaps the Elf had stayed indoors overlong in Rivendell. Valar knows, there had been enough political discussions and formalities going on to keep anyone indoors for long stretches of time.

Gandalf fell into step with the company as they came upon him. The morning of their departure was quiet, excepting the antics of hobbits. Gandalf could not help but be satisfied with their beginning, though it came many seasons too late. Winter was a disaster in the making they would feel ere long. Still, in such jolly company, the packs seemed lighter and the sun more merry. The wizard enjoyed the freshness of the day.

* * *

"There's nothing like a warm meal at night." Sam sighed happily, "and it is enjoyed even more with good company."

"You presume all of us are good company by saying so, " said Legolas, eyeing the dwarf.

"I am better company than you any day of the age, master elf." Gimli snapped, "You barely talk and you pick at your food like a squirrel. You think that because you are an elf, that you are too good to be with the likes of us."

"At least I am not a quarrelsome dwarf who stinks of tobacco leaf. Your intelligence has no merits. Your diminished brain has not the capacity for thinking up good conversation. "

Gimli glared at the elf who sat furthest from the campfire, leaning against a log. The company camped and supped tonight after a week of travel. Legolas and Gimli were ever at odds with each other. Sometimes their insults were weak, other times vicious. Legolas would often become the cruelest more quickly. The hobbits stared wide eyed at the usually peaceful elf. All through Rivendell they witnessed the elves to be kind and wise; at their worst they had been stern or prideful.

Legolas used demeaning insults the longer the game went on. Aragorn watched the spectacle without interfering. He too was seemingly puzzled by Legolas's poisonous words. The ranger observed from his place beside Gandalf.

"If we speak of dimwits, let us not forget the harebrained elves. Ever the elves of Mirkwood are forced to sacrifice their lives for a king with a greed for jewels."

Legolas rose, features twisting. The suddenness startled the hobbits so badly, Sam actually fell backwards.

"You speak of greed, son of Gloin, as if your family had not been party to it. Let me remind you-"

Legolas paused, features an ivory white, face going slack.

Aragorn, the mediator and healer, felt his instincts flare with alarm.

"Legolas!" Aragorn rushed to his side, catching his arm. Everyone watched the elf fumble for words.

"What is wrong?" The ranger whispered in Sindarian.

"Nothing. Let me find fresher air." The elf answered in the same language and darted away from the firelight into the darkening woods.

The befuddled company turned to Gandalf, as if waiting for an unspoken signal. The wizard sat smoking, puffing smoke rings. Raised eyebrows were the only response he made to the drama played out before him.

The hobbits, ever resilient to trouble, eventually went back to their own discussions. Frodo sensed the need for a change of mood too, so he started discussing elven flowers with Sam.

"When we get back to the Shire, perhaps you could get a patch growing of those star-shaped, white flowers, Sam. They were the ones by the dining hall in Rivendell. They were very beautiful."

"Indeed. I admired them too. Though I liked the gold ones even better, I shall make sure to get a lot of white ones started. Mayhap I can get them growing by next spring…"

Gimli sat listening, still clenching and unclenching his fists. He took up his pipe after a time and smoked with the vigilant wizard. Gandalf did not speak a word to any of them, though that was hardly a rare occurrence.

Aragorn sat fidgeting with his bedroll and pack until he gave up all pretense of relaxing and disappeared after Legolas. Gandalf watched him leave, face lit eerily in the firelight, drawing at the pipe, still as a specter. His eyes stared off into the distance and into the shadows of the woods.

Aragorn found Legolas sitting on another felled tree in the forest. The wood of the yew was blistered and blackened from a lightning strike. Its ugly pestilence fractured the pale bark, warping and mutilating the tree trunk. Legolas sat silently upon it, picking at the blackened wood, expression inscrutable.

Aragorn pondered to himself why Legolas was ever close to the ground. As soon as anyone turned their back on him in Mirkwood, they would find the elf gone and among the ancient boughs of oaks and cypress trees. He hid in the trees while in Rivendell as well.

Isildur's heir took a seat beside the prince on the mangled tree. Legolas huffed a sigh, but continued to scratch off burnt bark onto the forest floor. The elf's spine was rigid, shoulders tensed. Aragorn waited, looking up at the sky. The southern sky was very clear. Stars glimmered through the inky black curtain, numerous and welcoming.

At long last, Legolas turned to him. His coloring was milky white, his eyes had a glazed appearance. Aragorn studied him quietly, waiting for Legolas to break the silence.

"Have you come to scold me?" Legolas said curiously.

"Scold you? I doubt that would be in my place. Advise, would be a better word."

The elf chuckled weakly and looked down at his feet.

"You worry me." Aragorn decided to be honest.

Legolas whipped his head around and he looked back at him with a furrowed brow, gaze searching his.

"What gives you cause for worry?"

Aragorn held up his hands in a semblance of surrender.

"You are not acting as you usually do, that is all." Aragorn reassured him.

"I always quarrel with Gimli." Legolas murmured, directing his eyes back to the log.

"I have never seen you quarrel like you do lately. Even you and your father never rowed so."

"What business is it of yours should I choose to insult the dwarf?" Legolas hissed.

"I just wish you would tell me what is wrong," the ranger said softly.

Legolas's anger evaporated when he looked at Estel. The ranger still sat, unmoving, mouth tugged in a frown.

"I-I cannot tell you." Legolas grimaced. His shoulders slumped.

Aragorn nodded, as if expecting the answer,

"Is there no one else you can tell? If it weighs on you so, I would feel better that you had someone to confide to."

"There are not many I would tell. Mithrandir might be approachable on the subject. I know not." Legolas drew up his legs and propped his chin on his knees, staring into the distance.

"Then tell him. He shall listen and respond wisely, I have no doubt. Just tell him and you shall not be disappointed." Aragorn patted him on the shoulder and walked back to the campsite, leaving Legolas to think.

Legolas looked up at the stars, still hunched in on himself.

"Alas, mellon nin, if it were only that simple." He whispered in the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Author note: Major warnings for suicide ideation in this chapter! Some descriptions of illness. This is a real disease! I am unsure how graphic this is, so be prepared.

* * *

The next morning was damp and gray. A rainy haze settled over everything. Water gathered in the bases of valleys and in the crags of the mountains. The company's skin and clothing were cold and clammy.

Boromir wiped freezing sweat out of his eyes irritably, and the hobbits shivered. The area had recently seen rain, and mud and sludge regularly plighted the road. Gandalf led them faithfully past the deepest sinkholes.

Gimli removed his helm, wiping a handkerchief over his sweating forehead. The dwarf was as drenched and disgruntled as much as the rest of the company. The misery made him careless.

Unexpectedly, he stepped into a shallow pit of mud on the road. He wavered arms wind milling to gain his balance, about to fall face first into the mud. Faster than the blink of an eye, Legolas caught him under the arms and dragged him away from the hole. Gimli spluttered, the hobbits watched with wide eyes.

Aragorn froze, watching to see if Legolas saved him from one danger to put him in a worse one. But, Legolas merely waited until Gimli straightened, and then walked back to the end of the procession.

The dwarf looked back at him, blinking, until Merry grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into a debate with Pippin. Aragorn glanced back at the elf, who was pointedly ignoring him. The ranger sighed. _You fix the outer edges of your problem, my friend, but not the center_, he thought wearily.

The day passed without further incident. Legolas and Gimli ceased to fight. Gimli even baited the elf, but Legolas merely answered calmly and politely to everything the dwarf said.

Aragorn noticed something else when they camped that night. Legolas was thinner. Elves were always thin, but the ranger noted that the elf's clothes bagged around his slimmer legs and the elf's belt had been tightened around a waist that was far too fragile. Aragorn could probably count his ribs if he wanted to. Aragorn grimaced and stared at Gandalf, thinking. Legolas needed to break his silence.

They were all exhausted that evening, so Aragorn let the matter rest until morning. The hobbits had curled up by the fire, dozing, and Legolas and Boromir were already asleep. Gandalf gestured at Aragorn to join him. The ranger did so, knowing what topic they were going to broach.

"Legolas is unwell." The wizard stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, yes he is. I cannot get him to tell me why, though." Aragorn grumbled.

"Perhaps it is not a matter of why. Perhaps he is only unwell."

"He broods over something," Aragorn whispered urgently. "He has never acted this way before in all my years of knowing him. Do you think the ring calls to him?" Aragorn lowered his voice.

"No, I do not detect the black stain on his soul. Something else drains him. Yet, we cannot help him unless he chooses to speak."

Gandalf turned to Aragorn, eyes lighter.

"You best rest while there is still time. The dawn creeps closer."

* * *

Gimli awoke when someone brushed by him. It was too early in the morning to be awake, judging by the position of the sun. He despised rising early. A dwarf preferred the twilight hours, for his own home was often dark. He nearly grumbled at the clumsy individual until he saw who it was.

Legolas staggered into the woods, body shaking, face colorless. The dwarf was not concerned, no, he was curious. Why should the elf sneak away in such a state? Did he avoid Aragorn?

Gimli pursued as silently as a dwarf could. Leaving all manner of weapons and gear behind, he slipped into the trees after the elf. Legolas walked quickly, urgently. Gimli darted behind cover as he followed, in case the elf should happen to glance back.

Finally, Legolas stopped. Gimli stood a distance away, squinting. Legolas swiftly removed his breeches. The dwarf turned his back abruptly, and started to walk away. Whatever the elf was doing, he did not want to know. He stopped when he heard vomiting. It was gut-wrenchingly painful to listen to.

Gimli stole another glance at the suffering elf. He nearly fell over at what he saw. Bright red blood trickled down the elf's pale legs. The elf still crouched over, vomiting, but his tunic and his position could not hide the fact that blood was dripping from between his legs.

Gimli swore he ceased to breathe at that moment. Legolas was a woman? No. He could see the elf was male. But then how else could the elf be-oh, Oh! The dwarf became even more confused. At the moment he felt like running back to camp and seeking counsel.

Before the dwarf could move, Legolas spoke.

"I know you are there, Gimli," His voice was thin and weak. He sat, wiping off the blood with leaves efficiently, and he drew back on his breeches, still talking.

"Come out, I know you saw me."

Gimli slipped out from behind a large pine tree, caught between blushing and sympathy, unknowing what he should feel or what he just saw.

" I only just got here, I was taking a walk."

Legolas flapped his hand impatiently.

"Don't be ridiculous, I already know you followed me. You make so much noise that it could leave me without a doubt it was you."

Gimli stood, silent, tugging at his own beard and thinking.

"Gimli, I am dying." The dwarf looked upwards, eyes widening. Legolas twisted his mouth into a wry smile, his eyes ageless and sad.

"From what?" The dwarf asked hoarsely.

"You saw me. Can any mortal, or any elf lose three times more blood than that every day for weeks? I am losing too much blood to replenish it. Soon, I shall slow down the company, very probably today I shall lag. It is an illness."

"Illness, it is more like witchcraft! Does this doom have a source?" Gimli asked, dreading.

"This sickness that causes me to bleed is in the royal bloodline of Mirkwood. It only strikes certain individuals. My father and siblings are hale, but I am not."

Legolas said all of this with a stony gaze, eyes full of memory.

"My father's healers did their best to help me, but I was often ill in the court of Mirkwood." He chuckled darkly.

"Few have heard of Legolas, son of Thranduil. Indeed, my deeds are of little note. My father did his best to keep me shielded from all others during this wretched sickness. It is the kind of thing that is not brought up in any conversation. Everyone can talk of illness of the lungs, the throat, the heart, but who wants to speak of illness of the stomach?"

Gimli looked into the elf's eyes to see emptiness. His face was devoid of expression.

"You may yet live, if you have been ill before," Gimli stated thoughtfully.

"Look around us. Are there medicines and is there time to rest, or even enough provisions to replenish my body? I knew this quest might be the death of me, but I came along at any rate." Legolas wore another humorless smile.

"Why did you come then, if you knew that you chanced fate?" Gimli asked, sensing that he was close to something important.

"I suppose I wanted to do something noteworthy, it was foolish. I trained as a warrior for much of my life to find I was too weak to draw my bow more often than not. I have never considered the path of a scholar or a healer, to be a warrior was always in my heart. I did not wish to live a life of infirmity."

"You wanted this to be your last contribution." Gimli stated, reading the answer in Legolas's eyes.

Legolas watched the dwarf thoughtfully. Gimli was standing straighter, his eyes as hard as flint. His response thundered over the elf as Legolas sat amongst the blood-stained leaves.

"This will not be your last contribution. Nor shall you end your own life or whatever harebrained plot you have circulating about in that thick Elvish skull. Do you think the Fellowship will not care? You have been sadly misled if you think you shall be able to find peace on this trip."

Legolas opened his mouth to retaliate, only to find Gimli jabbing him in the chest with his stubby finger.

"You shall listen to me, you pointy-eared fool. We have had many options before us, and yet you notice none of them. Aragorn is the most skilled healer I have ever met. We have herbs and medicines in our packs that may aid you. We are several miles from a settlement by the Cahadras, where you might find rest and more aid. Not only that, you have a small army of hobbits to do your bidding and spoil you while you rest.

If you find you cannot walk anymore, there are two strong men and one pony that would carry you gladly. So, kindly cease this foolish talk of dying and come back to camp where we can lessen or eliminate all of your sufferings."

Legolas stood still for a timeless moment. The breeze blew around them and the faint chirping of birds could be heard in the distance. Gimli was before him, eyebrows bristling and with an expression as hard as granite.

"You speak wisely. I have no will to fight your counsel. I find I am too tired to do so anyway. Lead on." Legolas said evenly.

Gimli trudged off ahead. He gave a small smile when he saw the elf follow. One battle may be won today, but there was still the war to consider. He still allowed himself silent praises of victory.

* * *

The next few days were a blur to Legolas. He dimly remembered meeting Aragorn back at the camp after the encounter with Gimli. He recalled feeling dizzy, as blood loss would often do.

He was pushed into a sitting position and Estel kept his hands planted firmly on his shoulders as the ranger talked with Gimli. Legolas caught enough words to know the dwarf told everything. Mithrandir stood close by, listening in.

He remembered feeling like he should be embarrassed, but he could not find the energy to be so. After that he had no recollection. The pain had started building in him until he found himself struggling in Estel's arms.

He did not know what time of day it was, nor where he was. Estel did not treat him like a patient with convulsions. Legolas had seen him move everything out of the way in such cases and let it run its course.

By contrast, he held Legolas's head securely to his chest as the elf writhed, and tugged him upward as he slid around in the throes of pain. The delicate elf twitched weakly, but urgently. Aragorn would have compared it to holding a sapling still in a high breeze. Finally, he detached himself from the ranger, panting. He looked around.

The members of the Fellowship watched him, half standing. Gandalf's eyes still flashed with alarm. It was nightfall, and they were again around a campfire.

"How long have I been asleep?" Legolas asked.

"Three days. You are on the base of Cahadras." Gandalf filled him in. He was smoking his pipe again and he sat back down as Legolas's pains diminished.

"Why have I slept so long, and why cannot I remember the travel?"

Aragorn fidgeted with his hands and shifted side to side.

"I can account for that. I gave you a sleeping draught three days ago, so I might examine you. You slept for nearly two days, and you were in so much pain when you woke, I put you under again. The rest has done you good, I believe. Your lack of sleep and blood loss put you into longer periods of unconsciousness. I did not drug you overmuch."

"How did I get here?" Legolas looked at the foreboding mountains looming over them.

It was Boromir's turn to look uncomfortable.

"We could not put you on the pony while you were still unconscious. Aragorn and I took turns carrying you."

Legolas gradually rose to his feet, stiffening as many of the fellowship converged on him to offer aid. Aragorn got to him first, slipping Legolas's arm across his shoulders and helping him shuffle towards the fire.

The elf blushed. But even he could not deny that he had needed the ranger's help to walk. Legolas frowned darkly with the continued gaze of the company on him. He felt like they were watching him to see if he would drop dead at any moment. Not that he wouldn't have preferred to do so…

As that thought flitted across his mind, he glanced at Gimli. He was grateful that the dwarf could not read his thoughts.

Frodo approached slowly, and swiftly threw a blanket over him. It was if he thought Legolas might refuse the offering. The ring bearer took his seat back with his kin on the opposite side of the fire. The hobbits seemed quiet, almost subdued.

"Master Legolas, I made some broth for you. Strider said you would be hungry and that you need to keep up your strength." Sam handed the ailing elf a bowl of steaming broth. It was made from the juicy meat of a rabbit they had caught that day.

Legolas dazedly realized that Sam had rose and toiled over the pan of broth as soon as he had woken, warming it over the fire just in time. He smiled gratefully at the hobbit and cupped the bowl in his fair hands.

The company seemed to breathe an invisible sigh of relief when Legolas abandoned the ladle and drank the liquid straight from the rim of the bowl, obviously starving. When the Mirkwood elf finished, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked around warily.

Aragorn took the empty bowl and handed it back to Sam.

"Seconds are in order. You haven't eaten nearly enough these past few days."

Very gradually, the hobbits started talking quietly to each other again. It was as if the elf's capability to eat ensured that he would soon be well again. The rest of the company was not so easily fooled.

It was at that comfortable moment that Legolas said something that drove them back to shocked silence.

"Why haven't you left me yet?"

The elf was too dazed to realize how childish the question sounded.

Aragorn watched him with a furrowed brow and asked, "What do you mean?"

"The Cahadras…There was a village at the base of Cahadras. We must have passed it."

Estel sighed.

"We did bring you to the village. I consulted the healer there to see if they had better treatments. They had little in the way of herbs or any medicines. As to the healer, his skills and experience were both lacking. We could not stay long, so here we are."

"You should have left me there," The elf's voice was high and it wavered "I only endanger the ring bearer like this. Aragorn, why have you brought me? I am unable to protect anyone in this state."

Sam had dished out the elf's seconds and he nearly sloshed the hot broth on the elf in his surprise at Legolas's words. Aragorn pinched his brow, squinting up his eyes, obviously holding back some sort of emotion. The firstborn wondered if the overtired man was trying to hold back from shouting at him.

"Legolas, remember the vows the Fellowship made in Rivendell?"

The elf slowly nodded.

"We bonded ourselves not only to Frodo, but also to each other. I would have left you to the care of the villagers if I honestly thought it would help you. But right now I am the more experienced caregiver, and I still follow Frodo on this quest.

We have been able to carry you thus far, and you have not shown any undue exhaustion from the distance we traveled with you incapacitated. I also cannot leave you when you are in a state of mental illness, as Gimli told us that you are."

"Mental illness?" The elf laughed. "What did the dwarf tell you to give you that impression?"

"He told us that you wanted to die on this quest," the ranger said bluntly.

Pippen swallowed. Frodo's eyes widened. The ring bearer rose and approached him again. Legolas found himself shrinking away from the honest blue gaze. The hobbit's eyes searched his.

"Is this true?" Frodo asked softly.

Legolas lowered his eyes and slightly nodded. Frodo sighed.

"I cannot be responsible for you forsaking Valinor." The slim hobbit fumed. "Gandalf!" The hobbit called to the aged wizard.

"We must do something for him. We cannot let him suffer all the way to Lothlorien."

Gandalf shook his head, which made Frodo wear a furious frown.

"We cannot turn our path to a harbor for him to sail, nor can we send him anywhere without escort. The only individuals able to carry him are Boromir and Aragorn and we desperately need their skills.

Our only hope is that Lothlorein would send someone to meet us before we reached the fringes of those woods. We have a long trek ahead, and I can see no alternative but to take him with us." Gandalf murmured.

"Forgive me, Gandalf but there is an alternative." Legolas said weakly. The fair elf still sat beside the fire, thin hands clutching the blanket around him and eyes still glazed with illness.

"Bill shall bear me."

"The pony?" Boromir exclaimed.

"Yes. I can even strap myself to his saddle if I must. I would be depriving you of your pack horse, but it would be much easier than bearing me in your arms and I could hasten back to Imiladris."

For some reason, Legolas looked nervously at Gimli when he said this.

"Alright, it was a bad idea, I'll shan't mention it again."

To the surprise of all, the elf finished the broth and lay down beside the flickering campfire. The hobbits all stared at each other, and then looked at Gimli. The dwarf looked completely normal. He just sat on a boulder, leisurely smoking his pipe. Shrugging, they started to launch into a debate about the history of Tooks, and whether or not Pippin was descended from a Hobbit who had befriended Isildor long ago.

Merry leaned back with a smirk, clearly unconvinced. Sam tried to agree with both Pippin and Frodo as they argued. Frodo was well up on his history of Middle Earth, and seemed to put holes in the young hobbit's theories quicker than you could butter toast.

Gandalf was staring off into the distance again, eyes intent on nothing. Boromir sharpened his sword. Aragorn dragged his sleeping pallet over beside Legolas. The ranger lay down, eyes still on his patient. Legolas blinked slowly and looked back at him, eyelids drooping.

"Rest." Aragorn chided.

One by one, the members of the fellowship fell asleep as the night drew on.

* * *

Author's note: The disease described is called ulcerative colitis. It can turn dangerous in severe cases. I know a fair bit about the disease, but I'm told many cases can be different.

I do know that elves sleep with their eyes open, but I believe they close them when they are exhausted. On another note, I hope this has not frightened my readers, but I did post a warning. Life is worth living!


	3. Chapter 3

Warning for more suicide ideation in this chapter

* * *

The next morning, the sunrise was painted in crimson and gold. It lit the mountains with a soft pink glow. The air was fresh and crisp.

The fellowship was up eating breakfast and preparing their gear, save two. Aragorn shook the groggy elf awake. Legolas glanced at his friend and then looked off into the distance.

He made no move to sit up. He watched cawing birds take flight from a tree on the cliffs. A smile touched his bloodless lips. The hills and fields swam in and out of focus and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

The prince sighed and rose. His friend put a tentative hand on his back. They both looked to the massive shadow of Cahadras looming over them. They would start climbing the mountains today.

That afternoon passed slowly. Legolas mounted Bill and they set off for a torturously long day hiking the steep cliffs. The fellowship stumbled and grumbled. Merry swore that the mountain paths were steep because the mountain decided to conspire against them.

Aragorn brought up the rear of the company with the Mirkwood Prince. The elf was gradually slumping over the horse's mane. Every once in a while, he would give himself a shake and sit up straighter. After several cycles of this, Strider took the reins and guided Bill.

It started to snow. The big, fluffly snowflakes gently drifted down on them. The hobbits were much amused by this. Even Frodo gave a wistful smile, remembering the days at Bag End making snow hobbits (which consisted of two roughly shaped spheres of snow with large feet) and rushing into the hobbit hole to help Bilbo make warm treats by the fireplace.

Merry and Pippin talked of one time they got into a snowball fight with the mayor of Hobbiton. Boromir fondly recalled how he, Faramir, and Denethor would give each other gifts at Yuletide. His father had given him his first two-handed sword last Yuletide.

Faramir had tooled leather to give him an elaborate sword belt. He remembered embracing his little brother gratefully, and Faramir had laughed. Faramir had laughed very rarely of late in these hard times. As his mind turned to darker thoughts, he took no notice of the company smiling around him, everyone's thoughts turning to home.

Legolas remembered sitting in a pavilion of Mirkwood, reading in the bitter cold. Even while his nose and cheeks pinkened with the weather, he sighed and smiled, eventually putting down his book to look into the snow caked forest. As he watched, a doe and a fawn wandered through the clearing. Their hides were dark, blending in with the dark brown trees.

The doe led the fawn, sniffing at the ground, and then suddenly raised her head and looked straight at the elf. Her large, black eyes watched him for movement. Legolas could have talked to her and calmed her enough to let him as near as he wanted, but he stayed where he was, watching them creep silently back into the woods.

Legolas closed his eyes, reminiscing with a dreamy smile on his face. None of the fellowship seemed to notice his strange behavior. The young elf tilted his head up in the snowfall, feeling each flake gently kiss his face in the cool air. He couldn't help think that everything felt like a dream. How vivid life suddenly was, here with his companions.

The curly hair of each hobbit gleamed in the waning light. Aragorn's weather-beaten face was creased, and dirt clung to the pores of his skin. Boromir's tree of Gondor on his tunic shone clear and cold. Gandalf's skin was wrinkled and ruddy. Gimli's battle ax was chipped from wear. The dwarvish engraving was slightly faded on the cutting edge of the blade. All around, the snow was clean and perfect. It erased every detail, every dead leaf, tree, and blade of grass. The snow eerily reflected the light, gleaming through the thousands of layers of tiny ice crystals.

If this was dying, Legolas thought he should no longer feel woe for those dead and gone. He had never felt so alive in all his two-thousand years of life. Just as he thought this, he slipped from the back of the Pony. Aragorn deftly caught him before his body could meet the ground. Gimli was quickly by their side, assisting the ranger as he lowered the dizzy elf to the ground.

"I'm alright. I'm alright."

"No you are not."

Legolas's glazed eyes fixed on the ranger's. His eyes widened. Estel's blue eyes were very moist. He was blinking back tears. The two started to converse, unmindful of the rest of the company watching and listening to them.

"Estel, I am strong yet. You shan't lose me now."

"But for how much longer? Your strength fades as quickly as the summer does in these mountains. Ai! What I would give to be caring for you back in Imaladris, with my father to help me and you in comfort. Instead I have to keep pushing you beyond your limits. Is it any wonder that this distresses me?"

The man stroked back Legolas's hair from his face, eyes aged, reflecting the many years he had spent in the wild. He had seen many men sicken and die in terrible pain. Cold reality was pressing in on him, making him see the pain and weakness the elf felt. The thread that held Legolas to life was more tenuous than it had ever been.

"You must lash me to the pony's back now. Even you cannot deny you shall need your strength for when I collapse completely. You must take your packs off the horse and lay me atop Bill and tie me on. I can keep awake, only I no longer have the strength to sit up." Legolas's voice was expressionless and detached.

"I-I can't do that." Aragorn hung his head.

"For the Valar's sake, the rope is just a precautionary measure. Bill will bear me safely. You know how horses favor me and how the most rebellious will follow my every command. I will be in no danger."

Aragorn swiftly pulled the packs off the horse and let them drop heavily into the snow. The fellowship watched in shock as Aragorn lifted the weary elf onto the horse's back. He lay his friend gently on top of the muscular pony's body and pulled a cloth rope out of his bag. They watched as Strider carefully tied the body of his best friend down. When the deed was done, he leaned his head on the pony, choking back tears, and failing. His breath stuttered, hair obscuring his face.

Legolas gave a sad smile.

"Don't cry for me, Aragorn, son or Arathorn. I can hardly feel any pain. I am at home here with you all around me. At least I do not have to go anywhere alone."

"He is right." Gandalf put a hand on the man's shoulder, watching him struggle with his emotions. Legolas was still smiling, infernally calm and accepting. Aragorn did not know whether he wanted to shout at him or to weep until he could no longer bring forth any tears.

Legolas's life was in his hands. But, even the hands of the king, the hands of a healer, could not hope to combat with a flaw of nature like this. It was Legolas's own body fighting against itself, and he was helpless to stop it.

* * *

The trek through the Cahadras was long and arduous. Aragorn regularly checked Legolas's vital signs as the elf became weaker. He often walked with two fingers pressed to legolas's neck.

When they decided on the trek through the Mines of Moria, Aragorn was almost relieved. They could not bring the pony into the mines, so he would have no choice but to carry his friend from then on. He would be assured that his friend still breathed and his heart still beat when he had him in his arms. But, as they reached the dark, grimy gates to Moria, he was frustrated when Legolas insisted that he would lean on Aragorn as a crutch only. The elf barely had the strength to sit up, much less walk.

As they puzzled through the riddle on the gates, the dark lake rippled from some unseen breeze. Legolas's keen senses of dark forces could sense nothing. He was too exhausted to foresee the great, shadowy beast approaching in the dirty waters. When an unusually high wave lapped at his feet as he sat by the water, he tried to stand, only to fall back into the sandy bank again.

"Aragorn! There's something in the water."

"What-?"

The creature in the lake flung its long tentacles wide, catching ahold of Frodo and raising the yelling hobbit above its gaping jaws. Legolas crawled away from the wild tentacles before they could latch onto his body. He crawled to a safer incline and shot at the beast, making the creature scream an unearthly sound and drop the hobbit into Strider's waiting arms. The beast was as black as pitch, features alien to them all. Even wounded, dark power seemed to radiate off the creature.

The fellowship ran towards the entrance into the mines. Legolas staggered after them, falling as the entrance to the cave collapsed around them. The sound thundered in his ears. Rocks of all sizes crashed down , bouncing and hitting him in the back.

He fell against Aragorn, bringing the ranger down with him. They both scurried away from the rockfall, on their hands and knees. Gandalf and Boromir ran to their aid, dragging them further away from the settling dust.

After the dust dissipated and the hobbits and men stopped coughing, they noticed that Legolas was resting against Gandalf's shoulder. His face was white, and he was propped up, limp and unmoving.

"Oh gods."

Aragorn approached them.

"Have no fear, he is unhurt. Only exhausted."

That was the last time that Gandalf the Grey ever reassured Aragorn.


	4. Chapter 4

The death of Gandalf was a blow to them all. Worst of all, Legolas was weakening. As another member of the fellowship hovered very close to death, the company crowded around him with tear streaked faces. Legolas was struggling to stay awake.

"Master Legolas we can't lose you too. Let Strider carry you for a while longer." Sam begged.

"I can make it to Lothlorien." Legolas said.

"We have to move fast before the orcs catch up to us." Strider told them all. The ranger parted their circle around the Mirkwood prince and approached Legolas swiftly.

The human lifted the elf up bridal style. The elf lay limp in his arms.

"I said I could make it."

"By all means, do jump out of my arms and leap onto your feet," Aragorn challenged him grimly.

When Legolas just returned a look of confusion, Estel nodded to himself and led the company down the mountain, bearing his friend in his arms. The elf was limp in his grasp.

Along the way, it soon became apparent that Frodo and Sam were injured. Aragorn only stopped to attend to them, boiling water and bathing their wounds with athelas. When the ranger examined Legolas, he found himself struggling with the elf like as if he were dealing with a wounded animal.

"That hurts! Let me be." The Prince ordered him.

"I'm only touching your stomach. It is alright. Calm down."

"No! Stop. I don't want to be touched right now." The elf moaned.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes as he visually examined the bloated stomach, the showing ribs, and the violent flinches. Legolas needed herbs and rest as soon as possible. He finished examining him and backed away, letting the elf roll over and curl up in response to the pain.

"We are almost to Lothlorien. We can get you help soon. I am sorry to have failed in my care of you, my friend."

Legolas rolled back over and glared at the ranger.

"Do not be so thick-headed, Estel. I would not even be alive now if not for you."

"But you are in pain," Aragorn pointed out.

"I will not be in pain much longer. If there is a place on Middle Earth where I can be healed, it is Lothlorien." Legolas smiled at him.

"I hope you are right, my friend. Come, we must hasten."

He positioned Legolas's arms around his neck and prepared to lift him, but was stopped by Boromir.

"You tire, Aragorn. Let me take him. I'll let you know if he grows worse."

Aragorn grudgingly let the man carry the elf. The ranger went and told the hobbits that they would be moving on, with which he received the response of a chorus of groans.

Pippin flopped against Merry's shoulder wearily. Merry laughed and patted his cousin on the back.

"We're nearly there, aren't we, Strider?"

"Yes. Once we enter the woods, we will be met by the border patrol."

"They won't shoot us on sight, I hope." Boromir said darkly. He was still, ironically, holding Legolas, a member of the race he was wary of.

"These dark times have made them suspicious, but I do not think they shall strike before questioning us," Aragorn counseled him.

As they trekked on through the day, Legolas observed Boromir. The man was staring off into the distance, scowling and frowning. The elf tried talking to him, but the man paid him no mind. Sighing, the elf let the Gondorian be. The elf was too weary to strike up a conversation, at any rate.

"I can see the forest!" Sam called from up ahead.

The hobbits ran to join him. Even Gimli sprinted to catch sight of the famed woods of Lothlorein. The woods were a deep green, studded with golden flowers. Mist hovered in front of the shadowed forest. Instead of being the foreboding mists of Moria, these mists drifted and danced. The trees stood tall and ancient.

The weary elf cracked a smile.

"It is as beautiful as I had remembered it." He said.

"I've never seen it before. It steals my breath away." Frodo grinned, eyes alight.

There all stared for a few minutes more. Until there was a shrill call of: "Merry, mushrooms!"

Pippen ran towards the forest, spotting large patches of mushrooms near the bases of the trees. The fellowship laughed. And soon, everyone was running down the hill and joining the mushroom gathering party.

Sam was directing them on what to pick.

"No, that one is poisonous, Strider. Careful not to let it mix with the other ones. Pippin, don't start eating them before we can even get the chance to cook them!"

Legolas and Boromir watched the chaos with amusement.

The man set the elf down at the base of a mallorn tree. Legolas leaned his head against the old tree, feeling its strength and sturdiness. He gave a gentle sigh, closing his eyes. His blond hair was tangled and dirty with travel. His pale and gaunt face relaxed. He felt as light as air, spirit drifting along with the breeze. He felt detached from his worldly body. He was drifting far away…

He was interrupted by voices speaking to him, bringing him back to earth.

"Legolas. My lord, Legolas. Come back to us now. I know you can come back."

The voice was elven and male. As Legolas awoke, he felt strong hands clasping his shoulders. Legolas's eyes focused on the young elf in the cool light of Lothlorein. For a moment, he thought he was seeing a reflection of himself. The hair of the elf was a shimmering blond like his, and he wore the clothing of a warrior.

But this elf's eyes were dark, not clear blue. He looked as if Legolas should recognize him.

"Haldir?"

"It is. How are you feeling?" The Lothlorien guard was staring intensely at him.

"To be honest, not well." Legolas could feel his body aching and his limbs felt too heavy to move.

"Here, drink this. It will help with the pain until we reach the healers."

The elf was holding a wooden goblet carefully in his hands. He attempted to hand it to Legolas, who hesitated.

"Aragorn has told me a little of your illness. We have to bring you to the very best healers available. You might be tended by the lady Galadriel herself."

"No!" Legolas said loudly.

Haldir raised his eyebrows.

"Do not bring me to the lady. My illness is…shameful." Legolas looked away.

Haldir gently reached out, cupped a hand under Legolas's chin, and turned his head back towards him.

"You very nearly died. Now is not the time for embarrassment or shame. I will do what I must to help you. It is my duty to my kingdom and to your companions."

Legolas slumped back to the ground and gave a small groan.

"Let us talk of this no more. May I help you up? You need to drink this." Haldir slipped an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit up. The younger elf gave no protest. His body quivered, hand shaking, as he lifted the potion to his parched lips. Legolas drank delicately, and soon his vision starting fading into grey.

Haldir felt the young elf slump in his hold. The drug had worked on him quickly, knocking him unconscious to protect him from further pain. The Mirkwood elf's hair was dull. His natural glow was almost gone, and there were deep shadows under his eyes. Haldir sighed.

A couple of Haldir's troops brought a stretcher over to them. After settling the feather light elf in the stretcher, they marched in the direction of Lothlorien's city. The fellowship was only one clearing away, resting, and waiting anxiously for news about Legolas. Haldir followed his men to the heart of Lothlorien, leaving others with the job of giving the grim news to the company of the ring, the news that the prince of Mirkwood would probably not last the night.

The first thing that Legolas became aware of was silence. The silence felt like a presence in itself. It was heavy and endless. His body, that had felt as if it had been floating and capsizing, was stable.

He was heavy on a comfortable, but firm surface. He was covered with a silvery blanket to ward off the unnatural chill. The material of the coverlet was velvety, and it slipped and flowed around him like water when he plucked at it with his fingers.

He lifted up the blankets. He wore completely unfamiliar garments. He was dressed all in white and silver, the colors of the Lothlorien people. He wore a simple tunic and breeches that fitted his skinny body like a glove. He blinked. He placed a tentative hand over his stomach. Frowning, he prodded and poked his abdomen. There was no longer a burning pain. His eyes widened. He pressed harder against his vulnerable abdomen, still there was nothing.

He sat up, running his hands over the front of the silvery tunic. At long last, he uttered a gasp, and then a brilliant smile split through the worry lines on his face. He gazed up at the sky, looking through the shadowy canopy of trees to see the sun shimmering high above.

The wind rustled through the gold and green leaves. The breeze trickled by, from in between the trees, cool on his skin. He closed his eyes still smiling, still wondering how close he had come to lose all of these beautiful earthly things.

A soft tread through the fallen leaves distracted his thoughts. He reluctantly opened his eyes and saw the white lady walking towards him. She wore a light blue and silver embroidered gown, long golden tresses cascaded over her back and shoulders. Legolas murmured a greeting, staring at his boots, face suddenly warm. He watched the ground until her bare feet came into view, hem of her sky blue gown trailing beside her.

He looked up at her, finding a wise gaze boring into him. Her eyes were darkly colored, but they sparkled with mirth. Her full lips twitched into an obvious smile.

"How are you feeling? She chirped in a musical tone.

"I am very well." Legolas grinned. "I would never believe I could feel so well again. How did you do this?"

"I have my ways, Prince Legolas. Though suffice it to say, you have another friend in Imiladris who lent me his services." She scratched at the ring on her finger.

Legolas saw that the skin around her ring finger was red and swollen.

"I hope that was not on my account," he grimaced, nodding towards her injured hand.

"Lord Elrond and I do what we must. I am very pleased your health is restored. Though, you must use caution yet. You have been weakened severely by the illness." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Just being released from the pain is a true blessing. I owe you much gratitude." Legolas laughed.

Suddenly, the lady frowned and bit her lip.

"Legolas, I must tell you something. You are not healed."

Galadriel's eyebrows had drawn together and the ends of her lips curled downward.

"What? How can I not be? I feel no pain," said the young elf with dismay.

"I could help suppress your body's destruction this time, but I was not able to cure you. You will bleed again someday. How far that is in the future…that is still uncertain."

Legolas hung his head; his shining hair hiding his face. He clenched his fists, trembling.

Then, the strangest event occurred. The lady of the wood, the elven queen and owner of the one of the three rings knelt before him. She was silent as she crouched down in the lush grass. Delicately, she tucked his hair behind his ears. The action felt achingly paternal to Legolas's haunted psyche. She caught his gaze and smiled weakly.

"Do you think life on middle earth is worth the suffering?"

As she waited for her answer, she looked up at the sky, giving Legolas time to think.

Finally, he stammered out: "Y-yes".

"Why?" She tilted her head to one side.

"I can think of seven reasons: Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam. They need me. And…" He paused, blushing.

"They love you." She finished simply. "There is no shame to love and be loved by your comrades. That is the reason many individuals choose to live. Since the reason for your presence here is among the living in middle earth, the grey havens shall remain as unknown to you as the Hall of Mandos. I wished only to learn of your plans. I think the fellowship shall be pleased to learn of your decision."

"Indeed. I am glad of their patience with me thus far. I am constantly surprised by their friendship and kindness." Legolas smiled.

Legolas rose, unsteady on his feet. The lady of the golden wood took him by the arm and led him back to the company. The clouds threatened to block out the sun in the sky, but the sun shone too brightly to be obscured from sight.

The end

* * *

Author notes: I know this a purely hurt/comfort story, but I had to post it after scrolling past the numerous and annoying Mary Sues and self-insertion into Tolkien's world fic.

I really appreciate you took time to read this, and any feedback would be lovely.


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